Word: crafting
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: all
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...ludicrously out of place, a white shrimp boat with canvas canopy chugging through the Gulf of Maine, 120 miles northeast of Boston. It flew no flag, bore no name and carried no fishing gear. The reason the craft had sailed so far north became immediately apparent once suspicious Coast Guard officers went aboard and sniffed the air: below deck were 859 burlap bales containing 25 tons of pot (estimated market value: $15 million...
...kind of street along which you promenade, admiring discreetly price-tag-less clothes, jewelry and paintings. On one side is the oldest non-profit craft cooperative in the USA, on the other the oldest guild of artists. All these places proclaim their uniqueness with the fervor of the faithful in possession of a fragment of the True Cross. And if this were Paris the artists would litter the sidewalks chronicling the scene...
...nature of his craft, the conductor need be a diplomat as well as an artist. But as the non-conformist Stokowski would learn in his career that spanned nearly three-quarters of the century, it was not always so simple to keep the two from clashing. The conductor who is too diplomatic may sacrifice authority he wants to hold over his musicians. On the other hand, the conductor who gives his artistic instincts free reign is labelled a tyrant or a show-off. In the best of times and in the worst of times, the conductor operates at the mercy...
...progress of black American writing, Novelist Toni Morrison once said, is marked by five stages. First comes the heat of protest, and then the more reflective search for personal identity. This is followed by an exploration of culture, a refinement of craft and finally a wider vision of the world. But the important thing, says Morrison, is not to explain but "to bear witness, to record." The author, who is also an editor at Random House, did this in The Bluest Eye (1970) and Sula (1973), novels that dealt with blacks in the Middle West, where the author was born...
Dougie and I climb aboard Fat Albert's gondola, Dougie fires the burners again, and our craft ascends into the New Jersey mist. In the distance, other balloons move like baubles on a mobile, rising and dipping in the breeze. There is solitude in the air. Except for the occasional fire of the burners, the rest is silence. The land shrinks to lilliputian dimensions; horses run from this spectacle in the sky, and people on their porches, retrieving their Sunday papers, look up and wave. There is no sensation of movement-our balloon is moving with the wind...